


Smoke

by FayeBell



Series: Moments in Life [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Leaky Cauldron, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeBell/pseuds/FayeBell
Summary: "“Didn’t know you smoked,” his best friend said, leaning against the wall, too. “Didn’t until now,” replied Harry, throwing the stump of the cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the heel of his shoe."
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Moments in Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878286
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I do not want to glorify smoking or imply in anyway that it's a good habit. It's bad and it can kill you, it is merely a trope for this story.

**-1998-**

The Leaky Cauldron was packed, that evening. Every table was occupied, sweaty bodies were pressed against each other everywhere, Firewhiskey was being consumed like water on a blazing summers day. Hallowe’en was always a popular night, especially for the young people.

Harry Potter felt dizzy. The heavy, slightly sweaty air inside the Leaky Cauldron seemed to prevent him from breathing properly. He felt like he was back, again, back at Hogwarts as it crashed and burned around him, shouts of people dying ringing in his ears. His eyes half closed he managed to find his way to the door, even though his knees were shaking and he was swaying on the spot.

The cool night hit him like a bucket full of ice water. It was like he could finally draw breath again, as he leaned against the brick wall next to the muggle entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. His eyes closed, hands trembling he rested his head against the cold stone, trying to clear his thoughts. His trauma, as Hermione liked to call it, was still sitting pretty deep, although he rarely ever complained.

He figured; he wasn’t as bad off as so many others. He felt like he didn’t have the _right_ to feel sad or scared or cry about his never-ending nightmares, that haunted him night after night. It had been months since he’d had a good night’s sleep. He remembered that particular evening very well. It had been the 31st of August, the day before Hermione, and his girlfriend, Ginny had left for school again. He had slipped into Ginny’s room after her parents had gone to bed, like he’d done so often before, that summer. Hermione shot him a knowing grin, as she went upstairs, to Ron.

He remembered crawling under the covers and Ginny’s small, soft fingers on his overheated skin. He had been asleep for a few hours before joining her, and the nightmares hadn’t left his body quite yet.

She had touched his face, kissed the corners of his mouths, tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips, drawing him closer, melting into him, arching her back as he touched her, moaning into the crook of his neck …

They’d fallen asleep afterwards, curved against each other, a tangled mess of limbs and shiny, red hair. Whenever he spent the night with her, his mind seemed to rest, letting him slip into a dreamless sleep. No nightmares, no waking up screaming, just peace and quiet.

But then she had left for Hogwarts and now it was almost November and he didn’t know, how much longer he would be able to survive this. Maybe Hallowe’en had been a bad night to go anywhere, to begin with. The date on his parents’ tombstone still haunted him and since he had never _known_ , when they’d actually died, it was never an issue, of course. But now…

He heard the voices from inside the pub, singing, drinking, laughing. Ron was there, somewhere, so was Seamus Finnegan – who had been sulking, too, because he had the same trouble as Harry and Ron: all their girlfriends were currently still at Hogwarts – and Ron’s brother, George, and his friends Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson.

Harry had hoped this night would distract him from, well, _everything_ , but all it had done so far, was giving him a full-blown panic attack. His fingers tightened around his wand, trying to calm himself, still.

“Y’alright, mate?” a voice asked him suddenly. Harry flinched, opening his eyes in alarm, searching for an attacker, a death eater, a flash of greenlight –

“Hey, wow, didn’t mean to startle you, sorry, ay,” the voice continued and Harry now spotted a young man, around his age, maybe a couple of years older, with dirty blonde hair and a crocked smile.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m a bit … twitchy,” Harry apologised, straightening up a bit. “I’m okay, thanks.”

The stranger nodded unconvinced. He stuck a hand inside his coat-pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, opening it. He held it out to Harry. “Oi, want one?” he asked, while already putting one between his teeth.

Harry hesitated for a second. He had never smoked before, but then again, he also never had a chance to be a regular teenager, had he?

He nodded slowly, reaching out a hand, taking a single cigarette between his fingers. The stranger handed him a lighter. He put his hand up, letting the small object rest between his lips, then he lit it.

He coughed slightly as the smoke hit his lungs, then giving the lighter back.

“Not a smoker, eh?” the stranger grinned amusedly. “Well, anyway, take care, mate.”

He walked away.

Harry just stood there, with the cigarette still hanging between his lips. Slowly he took it between his fingers again, before taking a drag from it. The smoke filled his lungs, the lingering taste of tobacco and nicotine spread in his mouth and he felt a sudden calm rush through his body. Maybe he was exaggerating the way everything felt in that moment, but he hadn’t been this relaxed ever since Ginny left for school.

He closed his eyes, continuing to smoke the cigarette, letting misty clouds of smoke escape his lips again and again.

Finally, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened and Ron stepped out on the street, spotting Harry immediately.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” his best friend said, leaning against the wall, too.

“Didn’t until now,” replied Harry, throwing the stump of the cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the heel of his shoe.

“You all right, then?” Ron asked worriedly.

“No, mate,” sighed Harry, looking at Ron. “I’m not. Not even in the slightest. Are you?”

“Guess not. I mean, it could be worse, couldn’t it? We _know_ that. Hell, it _was_ worse, last year around this time? Blimey, wouldn’t go back for all the gold in Gringotts.”

“Doesn’t make all this hurt any less, though, does it?” Harry muttered quietly.

Ron avoided his gaze. “No, it doesn’t. But we’ll get through it, all right? We can, I know we can. You and me, and Hermione and Ginny, and my parents, and siblings – everyone. We will get through it all, you hear me? Even if it takes years. We’ve handled _so much worse_.”

Harry stared at his best friend thoughtfully. “You’re right. We will be okay, won’t we?”

Ron nodded.

“Okay. Well, in the meantime, I think I’m gonna pick up smoking. Be a bit of a rebellious kid and all.”

Ron grinned. “If anyone deserves to be young and careless, it’s you, mate. Besides, I doubt a bloody cigarette could kill you, if none of the bad guys could.”


End file.
